


Phoenix Between Missions

by faerie_cobbler



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Panromantic!Riley, Queer Themes, Romance, Trans!Mac
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:40:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24339781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faerie_cobbler/pseuds/faerie_cobbler
Summary: A MacRiley story to answer, "what do Phoenix agents do between missions?"
Relationships: Riley Davis & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), Riley Davis/Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	Phoenix Between Missions

**Author's Note:**

> The first fanfiction I've ever written!  
> Encouragement, feedback and comments are highly appreciated! <3

Pocketknife in hand, Mac sat in his desk chair, legs crossed and feet resting on the desktop. A nearby speaker was playing, two voices chatting excitedly about recent research in materials science. The small cutting shears were extended and Mac was expertly honing the tiny curved blade, the pocketknife held gently with his long fingers. With as much use as the tool saw, Mac took care of it like his life depended on it.

He glanced out the window to see Riley on a deck chair, reclining in a tank top, hair in a messy bun and a look of concentration on her face as she underlined something in a large manual then typed a few keystrokes on her ever-present laptop. Earlier that day, Riley told him she was learning Fortran “for real this time,”: apparently some government systems still used the archaic programming language.

Returning his gaze to the knife, he inspected it, then returned it to his pocket with satisfaction.

As the podcast on the speaker came to a close, Mac opened a notebook and jotted down a few lines using the shorthand he and Bozer developed during their school days. He wanted to remember this new polymerization process, so he closed his eyes for a moment and started putting together a story in his head.He heard some shuffling on the deck and opened his eyes, his right hand reflexively checking that his pocketknife was there, milliseconds before he recognized it was just Riley packing up her notebooks. She was safe. Riley glanced back through the window and for a split second looked surprised to see Mac looking back at her.

I hope she doesn’t think I was just _staring_ at her, Mac thought, an almost-painful rush of blood moving to his cheeks. Pressing his lips together, he hoped Riley wouldn’t notice the blush, but she just flashed him a sincere, open smile before turning away. She didn’t _look_ creeped out, Mac thought firmly. I wasn’t even staring! Not that she wasn’t good to look at, said another voice in the back of his mind.

_Riley is family_ , Mac told it, his eyes narrowing microscopically and his head making a tiny, determined nod. _She doesn’t need me fawning all over her like every other guy she meets._

_But they don’t know her like I do,_ said the voice, a little smugly, if Mac was being honest with himself. “Shut up, brain,” he muttered, as if that had ever worked.

Glancing at the clock, he saw it was nearly 4 pm. It had been a long day of studying and tinkering - first hunched over his carbon scrubber prototype, drafting up some more notes and sending them to his climatologist contact in NASA’s atmospheric sciences group. A quick jog, and then a videocall to his friend in China to see how she was and practice his Mandarin. Riley came over to enjoy the sunny day and work quietly at his house. They did this most “off” days, so Riley was a common sight in the living room or on the deck, typing or reading or soldering at the workbench.

Mac stretched as he walked into the kitchen, his hands coming high above his head, his eyes closing a little with the enjoyment of it and his t-shirt riding up so a stripe of belly showed for a moment. 

Bozer and Riley were already there, talking. Mac blinked at them for a moment as Riley quickly looked back at Bozer. Had she been checking me out? Mac wondered, then quickly pushed the thought aside. _Stop imagining things_.

“What’s up? You two feel like a break, too?” Mac asked, walking up to stand next to his friends.

“Ha, you know me, man, I always feel like a break!” Bozer joked.

“Well, actually, I was just talking to Bozer about sparring practice,” said Riley. “It feels like it’s been ages since training...” a sudden gleam came into her eye. “I know you joined Phoenix a few years before either of us, but we’ve been doing a lot of fighting in the field.”

“Yeah, man, I think I could take you!” Bozer grinned, lightly smacking Mac’s chest with the back of his hand and then miming a punch.

“You know, that’s not a bad idea,” Mac thought aloud. “I’ve still got the guest room set up with mats and a punching bag. You two want to spar? Loser has to cook dinner?”

Riley and Bozer groaned. “Look, Mac, we love you, but your cooking would _not_ be a reward,” Riley teased.

“I guess I better not lose then!” Mac teased back.

“Who first?” Mac asked. 

“Uh, me and Bozer first?” Riley shrugged, looking at the two of them.

“No problem,” Mac nodded, then took a couple of steps out off the mat, swiping his handwraps from the bench. He sat down and began to wrap his knuckles and wrists, watching Bozer and Riley circling each other. They were pretty evenly matched, so he figured he’d have time to practice his form with the punching bag.

Riley was momentarily pinned and could tell Bozer was about to make a smart comment. Before he could say whatever it was, she shimmied an arm out, shifted her weight, and used her leg strength to escape. The loud noise of Mac’s “ha!” and his fist slamming the punching bag drew her attention. He looked good in his t-shirt and workout shorts, a little sweaty and his expression focused. _Damn, that’s sexy_ , she thought, the feel of it hitting her low and warm in the gut. _I wish he didn’t just think of me as a friend. Maybe -_ she was quickly pulled out of her thoughts by Bozer slamming her onto the mat and counting, “One! Two! Three! Gotcha!”

“What’s got you all caught up in your head, huh?” he asked quietly as he helped her to her feet.

“Nothing,” she said quickly, but he had already followed her gaze to Mac.

“Uh-huh,” he said and winked. Winked! Riley smacked him on the shoulder, rolling her eyes. “Really, nothing,” she repeated.

“You and me, Mac!” Bozer called out, tipping his chin up.

“You asked for it!” Mac grinned, unwrapping his knuckles. He dropped the tape andtackled Bozer. The two of them rolled around with the energy and ease of brothers. Mac was a good fighter, but hardly anyone knew him like Bozer. Riley watched for a bit, then spent some time with the punching bag. _It’s not that big of a deal,_ she told herself, giddiness and nerves about sparring with Mac almost bubbling to the surface before she pushed them down and gave the target an extra-energetic punch.

Riley stretched as the two continued to wrestle.

“You two gonna wrap it up this century?” she teased.

Mac and Bozer decided on a draw. A small part of Riley thought Mac might have let Bozer win, but she realized that she almost never saw Mac fight without improvising a weapon from something. If it was a real fight, he would probably have won by making a flail with a resistance band or throwing some of the nearby chalk dust in Bozer’s face. Actually, he probably would do something way wackier than that. In the field, Mac did everything he could to end a fight fast, with minimal human damage.

“You ready?” Riley asked, smiling. Mac’s chest was heaving and there were sweat stains on his shirt, and beaded sweat on his face. He was grinning broadly as he and Bozer clapped each other on the back.

Mac looked at her and for a split second she wondered if he was nervous before his friendly expression slipped back into place.

“The question is, ‘Are _you_ ready?’” Mac replied and without warning, lunged for her midsection. But she’d seen him do to this with Bozer, and she was ready, ducking to the side, and then pushing off the ground and his shoulder at the same time, taking advantage of his low stance to climb onto his back.

“Good!” he huffed out before she wrapped her arms around his neck in a headlock.

He would usually try to knock an assailant off at this point by smashing them between himself and a wall, but he didn’t want to do that to Riley, so he had to think fast.

He pulled at her arms with one hand, and with the other, he moved his hand back to wiggle his fingers against her ribs.

“Not fair!” she huffed into his ear, readjusting enough for him to get a hand in between her arms and his neck. The whisper of her breath at his ear reminded him of mostly-suppressed daydreams and he blinked hard and pushed _that_ thought down.

“Nothing’s... fair!” he grunted, wrenching out of the headlock before dropping to his knees and unexpectedly flipping her over him so that she landed on her back.

_He’s toning it down to keep me safe,_ Riley realized. _If I was a real assailant, he would’ve thrown me from his full height instead of dropping like that._

In an instant, Mac moved forward, pinning her left arm at the bicep under his knee and then the other. It was a strategic move, and a pretty effective pin for an average opponent. It was also a pretty, uh, _suggestive_ position, and Riley’s brain had a lot to say about that.

Mac immediately stood up and brushed invisible dirt off his pants.

“Alright, let’s reset,” he said in his classroom voice.

Bozer, who’d been watching from the bench, hid a tiny chuckle under a cough.

“I’m gonna go start dinner,” he said. “Makin’ fresh pesto, baby!”

“It’ll be great,” said Mac just as Riley said, “Awesome, thanks!”

“So, uh, do you want to...?” he asked awkwardly.

“Continue sparring?” she asked, brows up and a gleam in her eye. Answering her own question, she said “sure thing, just, you know, you don’t have to dial it back for me.”

“I’m not - “ he protested momentarily and then shook his head. He didn’t like liars and didn’t want to be one. “Okay, but I think that we can get all the benefits of practice and we don’t have to hurt each other. I don’t ever want you- ” he suddenly cut himself off, and then finished weakly, “I don’t want any of my friends to get hurt.” 

He is such a big teddy bear, Riley thought. God, I love him.

“Alright, champ, that’s fair. Let’s see what you got!” she said.

A few minutes later, he almost had her pinned. They were close and sweaty, breathing hard, expressions flitting between grimaces of exertion and grins of momentary triumph.

His hips were pinning her at the hip, and his arms were locked with hers. Riley knew she was moments away from being pinned for real. There was something about the challenge of it, of being close to a person she loved, of them breathing each other’s air and fighting and keeping each other safe - the whole thing was kind of arousing, and she felt _safe_ , there in his arms even as they were sparring. At the same time, she didn’t really feel like losing, so without thinking, she broke her own rules, and looked Mac right in the eyes, letting all her excitement and arousal shine through as she exhaled his name, almost breaking it into two moaned syllables.

His eyes opened wide and she could feel his strong, sudden exhalation, as though she had knocked the wind out of him, and she seized the moment, slamming her feet into the ground, pushing her hips up, knocking Mac off balance; she grabbed his wrist, hooked her ankle around his, and started to roll. With an “oomph!”, Mac hit the mat on his back and Riley rolled right on top of him, scooted up so that the weight of her body was on his chest, her knees on either side of his ears.

In her head was the sudden image of herself leaning down to close the distance, her hair falling down around his face, their lips meeting. She swallowed visibly and pushed the thought aside. Mac’s pupils were blown wide as he looked up at her, and she could feel a blush rising.

God, he looked good.

“Um,” he said.

She loved this very smart man.

He blinked, and his features rearranged minutely. His college professor face was on.

“Great job, Riles,” he said. “Care to let me up, or...?”

She quickly stood, then offered him a hand up, not meeting his eyes.

“I’ll see if Bozer needs any help,” Mac said abruptly at the same time as Riley said, “You were great too, Mac.”

An awkward second passed, then Riley gestured to the door. “After you,” she said, jokingly making a slight bow. She _wouldn’t_ let things get awkward, not with her best friend.

Mac smiled and dipped his head as he left the room. Riley followed him out.

“I _got_ dinner, man - you know I was a professional chef, right?” Bozer teased his best friend. “Go shower!” he added, shoving Mac lightly towards his room.

Riley was already showering in the guest room - she had an open invite, and Mac was delighted that she felt comfortable enough to use his home.

Mac walked to his bathroom, stripped off his clothes and tossed them into the laundry basket. His reflection in the bathroom mirror caught his eye, and he looked himself over for a minute: blonde hair, blue eyes, an athletic build, small pink nipples on a mostly hairless chest, a small trail of hair from his navel to the patch of hair between his legs that mostly covered parted labia and a small, hooded dick; there was light blond hair on his strong thighs, getting darker and thicker on his shins, and smaller feet than the average man. 

He knew Riley was panromantic - she openly identified as queer, but he never told her he was trans, and he was sure Bozer never did either. Bozer had always had his back, and when Mac told him at 10 that he knew he was a boy, Bozer trusted him.

In his fantasies, the ones that crop up like Hydra’s heads no matter how much he tries to ignore them, Riley loves that he’s trans, loves his body, thinks it’s hot. It doesn’t mean Mac wasn’t a little worried that Riley wouldn’t be attracted to him if they ever did somehow - well, that’s not going to happen. He nodded to himself in the mirror and stepped into the shower.

Dinner with Bozer and Riley was amazing, as always. Bozer had whipped up homemade pasta, and pesto from the basil plants (over)growing on their deck and last year’s fermented garlic. Some months ago, Mac had made him a pasta press out of tin cans and a hand-crank pencil sharpener. The pasta always had wavy indentations on it from the shape of the cans, and it always tasted great. They sat on the deck, watching the lights of L.A. and chatting about missions and Fortran and a film festival Bozer was hoping to catch. 

“Well, I’m bushed,” Bozer said, opening his mouth in a fake yawn, then looking significantly at Riley and Mac.

“Oh-kay,” Riley said, turning her head to look at him with one eye, her brows raised and a faint smile on her lips. “See ya, Boze.”

“Goodnight, man. Thanks again for dinner,” Mac said, slapping Bozer’s palm in a low-five and then sliding into a fist bump as his best friend walked past.

“Yeah, dinner was great!” Riley called out at Bozer’s retreating back.

There was silence for a couple of heartbeats.

“You want to watch a movie?” Riley blurted.

“I, uh, I wondered if you maybe would want to go look at the stars with me? It’s a meteor shower tonight and I remember when we were at Area 51 and it seemed like you liked that and I ...” Mac blustered. _Oh, great! Good job, Mac_ , he thought.

Thankfully Riley interrupted. “That would be,” she shook her head, looking for words. “Amazing.”

“You wanna take the bike?” he asked.

“Yeah I do!” she said. “I’m driving!”

Mac loaded a few blankets, a thermos of hot tea, and a small telescope into the storage compartments of his motorcycle, and then they were strapping on their helmets and on the road.

It was a 40 minute drive to the hills outside L.A. The only things Mac could hear were the wind and the engine. When they got on the mountain road, the only things in sight were the curves of the road, the outlines of sagebrush in the headlights, and far above them, the stars.

It was all beautiful, but Mac honestly loved the excuse to hold Riley’s waist and lean into the curves with her. When there was no other traffic at a 2-way stop sign, Riley hit the brakes a little harder than Mac would have expected for someone with her experience, but he didn’t mind the momentary feeling of being pressed against her body, either.

He honestly had mixed feelings when he got off the bike, even though he had loved astronomy ever since he was a little kid. There was just a rush, being close to Riley, that he didn’t feel anywhere else, and he felt like he’d be happy riding with her for hours.

They grabbed the gear and Mac indicated a dirt path through the sagebrush.

“Used to come up here with my grandpa,” he said.

“I figured,” Riley responded with a smile.

They spread the blankets out at a wide spot on the top of a small foothill, and Mac started setting up the scope. Riley walked in a slow circle, taking in the vantage point.

“You know, it’s amazing looking at all these little points of light - they’re so far away in distance and in time. So big and so small. I love that!” she sighed.

Mac tried not to be too obvious as he looked at her adoringly.

“I wonder if I would have studied the stars in college,” she said. “If I ever got the chance, you know? I’ve heard that so much of astrophysics is programming nowadays. Programming the big telescopes, analyzing the data...”

Mac stopped fiddling with buttons for a moment.

“You would have been phenomenal,” he said. He took a deep breath.

“But you’re phenomenal at what you do right now - and the work you do is so important. I don’t know how I ever got by without knowing you were there watching my back.” He paused, grinning.

“I guess I’m lucky it’s me you’re watching and not the stars,” he said wryly.

Riley stepped closer and looked up at him. He could see the stars reflected in her eyes.

“You know it,” Riley said. She had intended it to be joking, but it came out soft instead.

“I ..” said Mac. He looked down at her, leaning closer without consciously recognizing it.

His brain seemed frozen, as their gazes locked. And then his brain kicked on again, running at a frantic pace.

He glanced away, down at his watch. “Shower’s about to start. Want some tea?” He turned away to pick up the thermos and blinked his eyes shut, hard, a couple of times. _Come on Mac, focus!_ he thought. _I want to show Riley a good time._ _A good time with a_ friend _._

“Uh, sure?” Riley was puzzled but tucked the moment away for later analysis. _Were we about to kiss?_ she wondered. _If I had leaned in, would he lean in too?_

They laid down on the blankets, two cups of tea steaming. The night smelled like sagebrush and hot jasmine tea.They could hear crickets and the occasional “hoo, hoo-hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo” of a great horned owl. Cool desert breeze occasionally raised the little hairs on their arms. It was soothing and invigorating at the same time.

_This is really romantic,_ Riley thought, but then _no, just a friend. Mac’s never shown interest._ Trying to put out these thoughts was like putting out fires in an oil field. They just kept showing up in different places.

“There’s one!” Mac said, pointing up and drawing her from the reverie.

“I missed it,” Riley said. “Did you wish?” she asked in a teasing voice.

Mac was silent.

“When I was a kid and grandpa took me up here, I used to wish that my dad would come back,” he sighed.

“I know what it’s like growing up without a dad,” she empathized.

“I know,” he said, briefly grasping her hand in his and giving it a squeeze before letting go and folding his hands over his stomach.

“You’re the sweetest guy I’ve ever met, MacGyver,” she said.

Mac froze, his brain spinning into overdrive. _Deflect!_ his brain yelled. 

_“_ Just wait til I have to borrow your cell phone on a mission and never give it back. See what you say then,” he ad-libbed.

Riley laughed. “My cell phone in exchange for saving the world? That’s a bargain I’d take any day,” she smiled and turned her head to meet his eyes, but he was looking up at the sky, so she just looked at him in profile, his blue eyes filled with stars.

“I don’t think I’m doing a very good job at this,” Mac said suddenly. “And I can’t handle dishonesty, and you shouldn’t have to either.”

“What are you talking about, Mac?” Riley asked.

Another pause.

“I think I need to tell you something, and I want to be really clear that it doesn’t mean that anything has to change.”

Riley nodded, “Of course. You can tell me anything.”

Mac drew in a deep breath. Then he drew in one more. He pulled out his pocketknife and turned it over in his hands.

“I’m, uh, I’m transgender, and uh, I have feelings for you?” he said in a rush.

He hurried on. “You, uh, don’t have to tell me you have feelings for me and we don’t have to do _anything_ or even talk about it again,” he paused, then continued. “I know we both have friends who are trans too, so I know you won’t be weird about it, but I really don’t want you to be mad that I haven’t told you yet.” Mac inhaled sharply, not realizing he’d been holding his breath.

“Oh. Oh, no, I couldn’t be mad about that. No, I mean, thank you,” Riley said softly, lightly jostling his upper arm with hers in a comradely display of affection. 

“When you come out to somebody, it’s always a gift, no matter when it happens. I know how hard it always is for me when I come out. Of course I wish you could have told me sooner, but that doesn’t mean I’m any less honored now. Does that make sense?” A couple of her past partners had been trans, although she was pretty sure Mac didn't know that. Over the years, she'd had many friends with different gender identities and journeys - in a city as big as L.A. and as diverse as the hacker community was, it was inevitable. 

She paused for the briefest second, then asked “Is there a different name you want me to use? Different pronouns?”

Mac shook his head, momentarily confused.

“Oh, I’m not going to start transitioning. I’ve been on hormones for years, since puberty. And Mac’s my preferred name - you know I don’t like ‘Angus’ that much.”

_“_ Well, thank you, Mac.”

_He has feelings for me_ , Riley suddenly remembered. _He just said he has feelings for me._ Riley’s mind was racing. Her body felt a little prickly and sweaty, and she was elated and a little terrified. 

Next to her, Mac was equally sweaty, scared, and excited.

Above them, meteors started to streak past.

“That was really brave,” Riley said.

“I, uh, I actually have feelings for you too,” she blurted. “I guess I have for some time now.”

Mac was holding his breath and holding onto every word. “Oh,” he breathed softly. “I, I didn’t think, I mean I didn’t expect...” he trailed off.

“Can I rest my head on you?” Riley asked.

“Yes!” Mac said, a little loudly. His heart was pounding.

Riley lined up and laid her head on Mac’s stomach. Her heart was pounding. It was a good time to look up at the stars and take a few breaths.

Mac saw a meteor streak through the sky and wished wholeheartedly there were equations for figuring out how and when to ask to hold someone’s hand. That wish did not come true.

“It’s beautiful,” Riley breathed.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“Maybe - I mean, what do you, what do you want from me? Or, with me?” Mac cursed his poor phrasing. “We don’t - you know, this doesn’t have to change anything, I promise!” he said fervently.

“I want all of it, Mac. Anything you want to give me,” Riley said with certainty. She’d been in love before; neither of them were kids or virgins, and her friendship with Mac was rock solid. The news that he was trans was a little hard because she’d hoped they wouldn’t keep secrets from each other, but she understood why he’d be stealth, especially as a government operative. Any secret could be used against an agent. Coming out was already wicked hard, and she couldn’t blame him. 

Mac nodded. “Do you- do you want me to hold your hand?” Mac asked. He could feel Riley’s head nodding, so he reached for her hand and held it, flipping his hand palm side up and laying it on the blanket, and then rubbing his thumb lightly on the back of her hand.

“What do you want, Mac?” Riley asked.

“I want an amazing friendship with you,” he said, shrugging. Riley tensed and then quietly took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said.

“Oh! No, I mean, I want _more_ than that _,_ I want to kiss you if you want that, and,” he choked on the words for a moment but soldiered on, “make love with you, and wake up together, and have a future together, if you want those things,” he said. “But what I _need_ is this friendship, this amazing friendship, and I would give up the best sex or kissing or _anything_ in the world to have that.”

Riley swallowed. My god, he was so _earnest,_ she thought. Something inside her stirred as he mentioned kissing, and sex, oh god - sex with Mac. She was really here, talking about it with him.

She sat up, holding his hand in both of hers. Instinctively he sat up too.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“No,” she grinned, shaking her head.

Releasing his hand, she placed one hand on his shoulder, and with the other, reached out to touch his cheek, then moved to whisper in his ear.

“Would you please kiss me?” she asked, her eyes closed. She could hear a tiny moan in the back of Mac’s throat, and then she felt his strong hands, one on her shoulder and one cupping her cheek, mirroring the way she had just touched him. She opened her eyes to see Mac’s face, his adoring grin, a flash of pink tongue wetting his lips and then she closed her eyes again and his mouth was on hers.

They kissed sweetly and minutes rolled by. Little soft kisses, small licks, the sounds of sharp inhalations and barely-audible moans. They broke apart to watch the stars and sip jasmine tea, and came back together to taste the tea again on the other’s lips. Time passed, and it got a little dirty, a little hot, a little electric. Riley took Mac’s lower lip between her teeth and bit gently, and when he moaned, she bit a little more, and then licked it, lapped at it, opened her mouth to him, sucked his tongue into her mouth, pulled their bodies closer.

Together they were like a closed circuit, Mac thought. He swore he could feel the electric current, could feel the charge building up between them when they broke apart to breathe and look at each other. They were really doing this, it was real.

“Should we, uh, slow down? I could show you the telescope?” Mac asked.

“I really don’t want to rush things, and I’m also _really into this,”_ he said, eyes wide, irises a thin band of blue around the jet black of his pupils, hair mussed. Riley wanted, wanted _badly_ , to run fingers through his hair, to push him down on the blanket, to unbutton his shirt and lick his collarbones and suck bruises into his skin, wanted him to invite her to feel how hard and how wet he was, wanted to know what that wetness tasted like, wanted a mouthful of him, wanted to have sex in whatever way would _blow his mind_. That seemed like a lot to say to him, especially since they had just had their first kiss, and - hell, he looked good in the starlight. Was he still talking? Shit, he was.

“ - I mean, I just don’t want to pressure you, and it’s late, and also I don’t want you to think I don’t want you, because, I mean, I really do-” he was saying. Riley kissed him mid-sentence. “Me too,” she said softly. “I want all of it, too, and I want to take it slow,” she said.

“Let’s enjoy this beautiful night, see a few stars... maybe you can show off that telescope of yours? And then we can ride back and you can hold me tight, or maybe I can hold you, all the way home,” she said, eyes gleaming and smile soft.

Mac nodded, a lump in his throat. He felt so, so lucky.

The stars in the telescope were amazing, as were the galaxies they viewed. The ride home was quiet, desert air whipping past and their headlight the only artificial light for miles until they were back in city limits, and soon they were pulling into the driveway.

“It’s late,” Mac yawned. “You want to stay over tonight? I can sleep on the couch and you can have my bed?” Mac offered. Riley didn’t argue - they’d both slept on a lot of couches, floors, and way worse places in their time as Phoenix agents, and she’d learned not to turn down a good bed. She brushed her teeth and slipped exhaustedly under the covers. Deeply inhaling, she was appreciative of the calming way it smelled like Mac, and drifted to sleep.


End file.
